NEW YORK — If you want to fight gridlock, predict that the worst will happen to ensure that it won't.

Given the technological advances of video conferencing, the laptop and the cellphone, not to mention all-news-all-the-time, this tactic has worked during storms, construction projects and political conventions. And it worked again Monday, the first workday after a Connecticut train crash last week crippled commuter service.

The rush hour drive between Manhattan and southwestern Connecticut, always slow, was slower than usual. Some trips took roughly twice as long as normal. But "our worst nightmare did not come true,'' admitted Jim Cameron of the Connecticut Rail Commuter Council, a consumer group chartered by the state.

Commuters, he said, had dodged — for a day at least — what he had warned of on Sunday: "Carmageddon.''

He hadn't been the only one making dire predictions. Connecticut Gov. Dannel Malloy said that if too many of the 30,000 commuters stranded by the interruption in service tried to drive, the result would be "a parking lot.''

He suggested workers work from home; those who need to be in New York each day this week, he said, should consider staying overnight — a nice idea if you've got a pied a terre, $400 for a hotel or a brother-in-law in Queens with a living room couch.

But on Monday morning, the roads were only a little more clogged than usual, and the train ride into the city from bucolic Westport, Conn., was smooth — just like any other day, said Nathan Lewis, who arrived at Grand Central Terminal at 10:46 a.m., after the typical rush hour. The seat next to him was empty.

"I didn't notice a difference at all," he said, and credited the Metro-North Railroad with doing "a phenomenal job" of crisis management. The Westport station, he said, had none of the predicted chaos — "everything was flowing smoothly."

That had seemed unlikely after a train from New York to New Haven derailed Friday just outside Bridgeport, and was hit by a train heading in the other direction, injuring 72. Officials say it will be days before service is restored; 2,000 feet of track must be rebuilt.

Hilly Dunn of Stamford, Conn., took an earlier train into Grand Central than necessary for a 12:30 p.m. meeting because she feared delays. There weren't any. Although she expected a "mob scene" at the Stamford station, her train was on the track, she hopped on and arrived close to the scheduled time of 11:07 a.m.

Sunday's warning amounted to a self-negating prophesy for two reasons: Saturation news coverage allows public officials to warn travelers off before a potential traffic crisis, and flexible workplace arrangements let workers stay home and still produce.

Cameron, of the commuter council, acknowledged that tailoring public travel warnings can be perilous.

"Maybe I was exaggerating slightly,'' he said of his talk of Carmageddon. "But after what happened Friday, it was clear we had a big problem. If we'd said, 'Everything will be normal Monday,' it would have been a disaster. But people saw what we were saying, and their bosses saw it.''

So far so good, agreed Samuel Schwartz, the traffic engineer and former New York City traffic commissioner who goes by the nickname "Gridlock Sam.'' He had this caveat: "After the Day One effect, there's the Day Two effect, when people see that things weren't so bad and decide to drive.''

Not everyone was crazy about Day One. Gary Maddin of Milford said it took an hour to make what is normally a 20-minute drive from home to the Bridgeport station. He had to board a shuttle bus to Stamford to board a train to New York. He wasn't afraid to use the word: "a nightmare.''

Not all travelers inconvenienced by the train crash were commuters. The Strueel family from Germany, Amtrak tickets in hand, was ready to head from New York to the home of a friend in Providence, R.I., only to find no Amtrak service between New York and Boston.

Pascal Strueel, traveling with his father and sister, said they opted for a very American solution to their rail dilemma: "Greyhound.''